Remakes are coming. Still. More. Lots of them. The Haunting of Hill House on Netflix, Pet Sematary, It Chapter 2, and Halloween to the big screen. The excitement. The outcries.
And here I am not caring a whole lot either way, but re-reading ‘Salem’s Lot for the first time since it seared itself into my psyche when I was a young teenager. (I’ll probably see two of the four listed above; wanna guess which two?)
Re-watching movies is so ubiquitous that we don’t actually call it re-watching—just watching. “I’m going to watch Hocus Pocus today.” Whereas we usually say re-reading when we’ve already read the book. (See above.) That’s pretty interesting to me, the cultural medium difference between books and screens.
But, really, why do we re-consume books, shows, and movies at all? We already know what’s going to happen, right?
My theory is that we don’t actually read or watch stories because we want to know what happens. Maybe a little, maybe that first time, but mostly we consume story because it makes us feel things. Wonder, fear, love, longing, excitement, dread, joy. It entertains us, but the really good ones, the stories we come back to over and over again, make us feel.
That’s why I re-read books, at least, or watch a movie I’ve already seen. I don’t remember exactly what happens or how it’s said or what it looks like—not all of it—but I do remember exactly how it made me feel. I don’t remember the character names in ‘Salem’s Lot or quite how the protagonist ends up, but I do remember staying awake one night afraid to turn off my lamp because the passage about the little boy walking past the abandoned church had reached something deep, deep in my fear and lit me up. So when I want to be scared, why not reach for the book I already know scares me?
Some of my favorite re-reads.
Stories and their specifics are easily forgotten, but the feelings they cause often linger. So re-reading or re-watching is almost a cheat; we get to enjoy the story pre-vetted by someone with our exact tastes (us). We know we’ll like it. And we get to experience those feelings all over again, often as fresh as the first time even after the story itself grows stale.
I think this is why so many people are anti-remake. Remakes do the opposite of what we seek by re-watching; they retain the plot while changing the feelings. But it was never the plot we cared about, only how that rendition of it made us feel. Plots are easy to copy; feelings are hard to reproduce. That’s why so many remakes are unsuccessful to original fans. The ones that do pull it off usually do so not by recreating that perfect feeling, but by creating a totally new one that also appeals, or by creating the same feeling in a totally different way.
That’s why It didn’t work for me, and why re-reading ‘Salem’s Lot is just as thrilling now as it was when I was a kid.
So where does that put those stories we come to over and over and over? How about the people who watch The Nightmare Before Christmas every single October? How about how I’ve read my copies of the Anita Blake books so many times the spines are turning white? When does the re-watch or re-read become ritual?
I think it comes down to which stories are strong enough to gain power vs. which simply wear down with revisiting. Perhaps a story is good, and makes you feel a way you enjoy, and you read or watch it again. Does it still make you feel that way? You try it again. If, over time, the feeling lessens, it becomes not a ritual but a thing you’ve worn out—a perfume bottle you’ve emptied, with only whiffs of the original stuff left. But if it retains the intensity each time, or perhaps even deepens with more understanding of the work, it becomes ritual. It grows stronger with repetition, and so that repetition becomes valuable in and of itself.
That’s my theory anyway. As I re-read ‘Salem’s Lot I’m not just reminiscing; I’m feeling again what I felt then, but stronger, more complicated, more developed. I’m appreciating the book even more, because my experiences since that first read have only deepened my ability to react to this particular story. I can’t say the story itself doesn’t matter, because obviously it’s the catalyst that makes us feel the way we feel, but it isn’t the story itself that draws me back; it’s the way that story makes me feel. Thrilled and dreadfully nervous and scared and wide awake.
Speaking of stories that keep you up at night, have you entered my giveaway yet? #BooksBrewBoo is going on through October 30, and the prizes include two very creepy books and a Starbucks giftcard—at least. In fact, if we get even 10 more entries, I’m going to add a third winner. And there might be a few surprises around the corner. 😉 You want warm sweet treats and spooky story tricks, yes?
Good! To enter, you can comment on any and all of my blogs this month (including this one, Celebrating National Dark Poetry Day with Light and Liquor, and Books Brew Boo 2 so far, with a fourth to come next week), or share the giveaway (or any of my work) on Twitter, Facebook, and/or Instagram. The full rules are here, but basically: tag me and include the hashtag. You can enter up to 13 times total! The more you enter, the better your shot at winning. And the more people enter, the more prizes I’ll include, so please help me spread the word! I’m dying to share my creepy books with you. ♥
What are your favorite go-to books, shows, and movies for re-consumption? Why (and when) do you re-visit them? And when do you think it crosses the line into ritual?
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